


A Wintertale (Translation)

by redangeleve



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Childbirth, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 16:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redangeleve/pseuds/redangeleve
Summary: After Thranduil left Bard in spring, he stands in labor on a stormy winternight at his doorstep.





	A Wintertale (Translation)

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [A Wintertale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12050211) by [redangeleve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redangeleve/pseuds/redangeleve). 



> I am not a native speaker, so if there are any mistakes in the story, I´m really sorry. I was asked if there`s no chance to read my stories in english, so I´ve tried my best to translate them. Please be kind, my school days are long gone.

A Wintertale

It had seemed like a mild winter. The first frost had not occurred until mid-December, and until shortly before Christmas, only a few lonely snowflakes fell from the sky, but on the day of the festivities, the cold finally arrived in Dale. During the day it snowed so hard that one could barely see the hand in front of the eyes and at night the temperature always fell far below the freezing point. This lasted until New Year´s Eve, than the weather seemed to settle, the snowfall stopped and the nights were no longer icy, so that one could enjoy the beauty of the snowy landscape to the fullest. People dove into the open again and went about their business, the Long Lake was frozen in some places so far that the children dared to play on the ice and the Lonely Mountain seemed to sleep peacefully under its white blanket. For weeks, not a single dwarf had been seen in the city. 

The New Year was not even a week old when the winterly idyll came to an end. Throughout the day the weather had been peculiar. The clouds were low and the temperatures soared for the first time in weeks so far over the freezing point that the snow on the streets turned into a muddy pamp. Then in the evening, the storm began. Violent winds blew ice-rain through the streets of Dale, shook the windows, and pushed through all the cracks. Carefully Bard checked all the windows and doors before he sat down at the warming fireplace. It was already late and the children slept in their beds, but like so often Bard could not find any peace. The burden of responsibility for his family and his people was heavy on his shoulders. True, he had come at peace with the desision that they had chosen him as their mayor, but the many little worries and hardships of his people often prevented him from sleeping. Howling the storm passed his doorstep, and blew the frozen water drops to the windows, and not for the first time that night, Bard was glad to spend this winter in a house. 

Last year, shortly after the war, people would probably have frozen to death if the elves had not been there. The dwarfs had been too busy by the loss of their king and the re-conquest of the kingdom under the mountain to care for the needs of men, but Thranduil and his men had not forgotten the people. Since the town of Dale was just ruins, the elves built tents for the survivors, in which they were able to live through the winter. The Elvenking himself took care that they were supplied with food and drink and the most essential things to survive the hard times, and when the weather finally improved after months of ice and snow, the elves helped the people to rebuild the city. Bard as mayor had been one of the first to move into one of the stone houses. He had protested, as he wanted to know the old and the sick savely first, but he had finally agreed for the sake of his children, but only under the condition that Thranduil, who supervised the work, moved into their guest room. Finally, the Elvenking could not sleep on a camp in a tent while Bard was sleeping in a warm bed next to the fireplace. 

To his astonishment, Thranduil had consented without much fussing. In the beginning, it had been a strange residential community. The fact that Tauriel was on watch on the threshold of the guest room when Bard went to the bathroom in the morning was more than strange, and Sigrid's face always showed a distinct tension when Thranduil took the barren breakfast between them. Bain did not spend more time at home than absolutely necessary, only Tilda seemed more than content with the situation. Whenever Thranduil was in the house, the little girl followed him everywhere and stormed him with questions. Although Bard tried to keep her away and intimidated her to leave the Elvenking alone, he always met his daughter in Thranduil's presence, but this did not seem to disturb the Elvenking. After a while the intercourse became less formal, the conversations more relaxed, and in some cases it was self-evident to find the ruler of Lasgalens bent over his papers, without his formal robes and the crown at the kitchen table. In fact, Bard enjoyed the other man's presence, and not infrequently, when the children were tucked in bed, they were sitting by the fireplace until late into the night, talking about this and that. Tauriel also seemed to have found her trust into the people of Dale so far that she did not sleep on Thranduil's door sill anymore but instead on the kitchen bench on the ground floor. 

Bard did not know when it had happened that they had crossed the border separating allies from friends, but he remembered exactly when they had kissed each other for the first time. It had been an evening at the fireplace, and he had definitely drunk too much when Thranduil suddenly bent over to him and covered his lips with his own. At first, Bard had been surprised, then shocked and finally he had found pleasure in this kiss. For too long had he renounced any kind of relationship, had lived solely for his children, so that the advances of the Elvenking were anything but unwelcome. That night only this single kiss happened, but others followed, always in the darkness of the night, in the seclusion of Thranduil's room, or in another place, where they were withdrawn from the eyes of other men and elves. For Bard, it was the most beautiful spring in a long time, and he secretly wished that it would never end, but then the day came when the work of the elves was accomplished in Dale, and they had to return to their own kingdom, and so Bard bid farewell to Thranduil. He would think of him, the Elvenking promised, and would visit Dale, as soon as his duties would allow it, and Bard promised in turn to keep him up to date with news from the city, and to keep his room ready for him whenever he would come. 

But Thranduil did not come back. The spring passed, and Bard waited impatiently for a word from his beloved; then came the summer with all its splendor, but still no news from Lasgalen. More than once, Bard sent a bird with news from the city to Greenwood, as he had promised, but he did not get an answer. After summer autumn approached and more than once stood Bard on the nearby hills, and looked over to the forest of Lasgalen, whose leaves turned yellow and brown, but no Eldar crossed his gaze. When the winter finally came, Bard knew he was waiting in vain. Thranduil would not return, and so Bard went about doing what he had always done since his wife passed away, he lived solely for his children. 

XXXXXX

Sighing, Bard took the candlestick off the table before finally rising. Though a thousand thoughts were still running through his head, he would now go to bed. It was late and it did not help anyone when he brooded. But just as he put a foot on the stairs to the upper floor, there was a knock on the front door. Bard hesitated. Who could that be, in the middle of the night and during this storm? No one would dare to go out in front of the house, unless it was an emergency. Quickly he crossed the room and unlocked the front door. Although he did not believe in an attack, he opened the door only a crack. Surprised, he would have almost dropped the candlestick in his hand as he realized who was standing outside. Although the elven woman had pulled the hood of her cloak deep in the face because of the weather, Bard recognized her immediately. "Tauriel?" Bard asked confused. "What are you doing here at this time?" 

"I'm sorry to disturb you," returned the elve. "But I did not know where else to go. He won`t make it to the palace. "

Bard didn´t understand a word. "Who? What happened?"

Instead of an answer, Tauriel pointed out behind her, where half a dozen guards stood around a horse and carefully helped the rider out of the saddle. In spite of the storm and the darkness, there was no doubt about who the rider was.

"Is he injured?" Bard asked, suddenly out of his mind with sorrow, to look after the Elvenking, when Tauriel's words stopped him in the movement. "No, he`s in labor."

"What ?!" In a mixture of shock and disbelief, Bard turned to the elve.

"We thought there was still enough time as we left Rhûn. The healer had said the child would not be born before the next full moon, but then the weather changed and we did not make progress as fast as we thought, "Tauriel told the bewildered man, while Thranduil, supported by two of his guards, staggered towards the House. "When the contactions began three hours ago, we knew we had to find a shelter, so we are here." 

Although his mind refused to believe what he just heard, Bared could see that Tauriel had spoken the truth as the Elvenking came closer to the light of the candles. His clothes scarcely concealed his curving belly, and his gait was broad-legged and ponderous, in contrast to the movements of the elves, which were otherwise so light-footed. His cloak, like all the others, was dripping with moisture and his face under the hood was frighteningly pale.

Bard could not prevent his mouth from hanging open as the guards led Thranduil past him into the house. One of them was carrying a bright stone, a light of the elves, so that a dim light illuminated the ground floor. "He must lie down," Tauriel urged the man before her to tear him from his rigidity. "He is very weak."

"Of course." As unreal as the situation seemed to him, Bard finally managed to hold himself together and showed the elven warriors the way to the guest room. The steps to the upper floor seemed to be almost to much for the Elvenking to handle, for he could barely climb the slope and his legs were shaky as they finally reached the top of the staircase. While his guards helped Thranduil pull off the wet cloak and robes until he was wearing only his underwear and put him to bed, Bard lit the lantern, so that the room was flooded by a pleasant, warm light. Everything looked exactly the same as Thranduil had left it months ago, for although Bard had given up hope of his return, he had not managed to change the room.

After their work was done, the guards retreated respectfully, only Tauriel stayed with her king, straightening the pillows under his back, and made him as comfortable as possible, while Bard stood a few feet away. Without wanting to do so, his gaze was fixed on the face of the Elvenking, recognizing the exhaustion and pain, and Thranduil's eyes were fixed on man before him, too, until he finally turned away and changed some elven words with Tauriel. It was obvious that she was not happy with the orders she had just received, yet the red-haired elve withdrew obediently.

Only when the door had fallen shut behind her, Thranduil turned to his human counterpart. "I'm sorry," he began quietly. "I did not want you to find out like this." 

"You do not have to be," Bard replied coldly. "You are not accountable to me." Even if Bard ached to admit, but it was the truth, he had no right on Thranduil as much as the Elvenking had no right on him, but he had hoped that there was something between them that went beyond the purely physical. He had thought there was something special between them, but apparently he had been wrong, or how could it be that the Eldar was now in this condition?

"But yet I am," Thranduil continued. "I've been away without a word for so long, but I did not want to ..." The rest of the sentence was left unspoken, for just then the face of the Elvenking was twitching, and a painful moan fought its way over his lips, while his hands unconsciously grabbed the sheets underneath.

Before he knew what he was doing, Bard was by his side. "Do not talk," he said softly as he stroked the shoulders of the elf. "This is not important now. You have to concentrate on the child. "The Elvenking nodded as he struggled through the contraction, then it subsided and Thranduil's body began to relax. 

"It won´t be long," he said. "The water has broken during the ride and I can feel the pressure already going downwards, but I will need your help."

"My help?" Bard asked alerted.

"Tauriel is still young, she has never witnessed a birth, but you already have children," said Thranduil.

"Which my wife brought into the world, not me," replied Bard indignantly.

"But you were there, did not you?" returned the Elvenking.

Bard shrugged his shoulders in a helpless gesture. "Sure, but I have not done more than hold her hand. Everything else was the work of the midwife. "

"You'll know what to do when the time is there," Thranduil replied with a confidence that Bard could not really understand. Then the Elvenking groaned again when the next wave of pain rolled over him. In an attempt to remember what had helped his wife during Tilda's birth, Bard drew the Eldar`s back against his chest and pressed firmly at two points to the right and left of the spine, until the pain subsided.

"Thank you," Thranduil gasped as he came back to his breath. "That feels good."

"It may be a while ago, but I still know a bit," Bard replied, not without a certain pride. At that moment Tauriel came back to the room, in her hand a large bowl of steaming water and a pile of white towels. Although she was outwardly calm, Bard could clearly see that the elve was overstrained with the situation. An attack by Orks she could handle, but to attend a royal birth, made her feel more than insecure.

"Tell the men to keep an eye on my children," Bard told her, as he had just remembered that the children were sleeping next door and could burst into the room at any time. "Then put a sharp knife in boiling water for a few minutes and bring it to me without touching the edge."

The elve nodded and disappeared with a last look at her king, who was hit by another contraction, hastily through the door. Mighty god, the contractions came in ever shorter intervals. There was not much time left. Again, Bard pressed alternately to the pressure points on Thranduil's back, until the pain was over, then he carefully returned the elf to the cushions. "I have to see how far the birth has advanced," he explained to Thranduil while he pulled, a little bit bashful, the bedspread away.

"Do what is necessary," replied the Elvenking, breathing heavily. "It's not like you've never seen me." 

In fact, they had bedded each other more than once, but this was the last thing Bard thought about as he pulled up the elf's undergarments and pushed his legs apart. At the time he had learned that some Sindarin elves had both sexes, he was shocked and fascinated at the same time and it seemed to him like a miracle, but now he wondered if it was not a curse as he examined the delicate flesh. The first thing he saw was blood, a lot of blood, which soaked the sheets under the elf, and whose private parts and thighs were so smeared with it that Bard did not first see what he was looking for, but then Thranduil was hit with a new wave of pain and the man knew exactly, where he was.

"You almost made it," he said to the Elvenking, who, after the contraction had subsided, lay trembling on the pillow. "I can almost see its hair."

"I'm afraid I can´t," Thranduil gasped exhausted. "I'm so tired."

"No, you can," Bard told the other man. "You're a warrior, remember? You can not give up in battle either. "

Tormented, the Elvenking closed his eyes. "Just a little break, some rest."

"You can rest when t he baby is there, I promise you. Now you have to be strong. When the next contraction appears, you press. "

Thranduil's face was already showing the blazing pain, but he still struggled against it. "Bard, please ..."

"Press, now!" The man ordered brusquely.

Obediently the Elvenking tightened his muscles. With his heels firmly burried in the mattress, his hands clasped in the sheets, he pressed so hard he could, until the pain was over. "Great," Bard praised the Elf. "Once again."

Another contraction began, and again Thranduil tried to push the child out with all his might. The pressure on his pelvis rose immeasurably, so that he felt torn apart. A whimper escaped Thranduil's lips as he could no longer hold the tension and sank into the pillows again. Bard looked attentively at the elf's face. Thranduil was completely wet with sweat. The hair earlier clinging because of rain and wind, now glued to his reddened face, and his body trembled with exhaustion and pain. "You're doing wonderful," Bard tried to encourage the elf. "Just a few more times and it's done." 

The contactions came now almost without a break, and though Thranduil thought he was being torn to pieces at any moment, he fought again. With his head pressed to his chest, he put all his remaining strength into the pressure. "It's coming, it's coming!" He heard Bard calling, but he was too self-conscious to grasp the meaning of what the man said. One last time he grabbed all his reserves and pressed so hard that the pressure became overpowering and he could not prevent a scream escaping from his throat. Then he noticed something slipping out of him and the pressure was gone.

"The head is there," Bard told him excitedly as Thranduil was about to relax. "Just press once more. I swear it's the last time. "

The feeling was different when Thranduil straightened his muscles this time, but it did hurt nethertheless, then it was over. A sigh escaped his lungs with the next breath, and at last Thranduil ventured to open his eyes as he heard soft sounds like those of a cat, but they immediately increased until they met the unmistakable cry of a newborn.

For a moment he simply lay, too exhausted to move, while Bard cleaned the child and spoke softly to him, then he raised his head and his gaze wandered down, where Bard was still standing between his hooked up legs. In his arms he held a bundle wrapped in towels, which he reached out to the elf with a knowing smile. "It's a boy," Bard answered the unspoken question in Thranduil's eyes. "And it's all there, as far as I could see." 

"My congratulations, my king." Only now Thranduil noticed that Tauriel had entered the room again. He had not heard her come, but he could tell from the strikingly pale face of the elve that she had seen enough of the events. "Thank you," he breathed, then held out his trembling hands, and Bard laid the bundle straight into his arms. At first sight the child was bright and healthy. His face was marked by the hardships of his birth, and it made displeased noises, until the Elvenking put his undergarment aside and held it against his chest. All at once it was quiet.

Surprised, Bard pulled up the eyebrows as he put the last remains of the afterbirth into a cloth. "What did you think how it would be drinking?" whispered Thranduil in a rough voice.

"I don´t know," admitted Bard, washing his hands in the bowl of water Tauriel had brought. "But it makes sense. Have you and the father already thought of a name for the child? "

"No, I have not had the opportunity yet," the Eldar replied as he stroked the child's tiny head automatically. "But maybe the father wants to make a suggestion now."

Confused, Bard looked at the elf. "Is it one of your guards? Shall I bring him to thee? "

In a mixture of amusement and hurt, Thranduil looked at the man. "No, it`s not a guard. I thought you had to understand it, but apparently I was wrong. "

Bard frowned. "What do I have to understand? Do not talk to me in riddles, just tell me. "

"You are the father of my son," Thranduil stated simply

"What ?!" Bard exclaimed, aghast. 

"I only knew it when I was back in Lasgalen," the Eldar explained. "Of course I wanted to tell you, but the pregnancy was not easy for me. I could barely keep something down, had internal bleeding and fainted every now and then, so I was tied to the bed for a long time. Countless letters I have begun, but it did not seem right to me to let you know it like this. Had not this incident in Rhûn occured, I should have never left the Greenwood Forest, but Legolas had been out of reach at the other side of the Anduin, and a diplomat could not have done anything about the matter. The healers were against it, but I traveled nevertheless and now see what happened with me. "

Bard had only heard the speach of the elf with one ear. As he stared, he looked down at the tiny baby Thranduil held to his chest. Dark hair covered his head, proving the Elvenking had said the truth. "My son," Bard repeated Thranduil's words mechanically.

"Your son," the Elbenkönig confirmed again. He took the child, who had meanwhile stopped drinking, carefully from his chest, and held it out to the man. Gingerly, as if it was made of glass, Bard took the baby and looked at it more closely. The boy was now asleep, so that the little face was no longer tense, but smooth and quiet. When he thought about it, it actually had a little resemblance to Bain shortly after his birth. Tilda and Sigrid had looked like their mother when they were babies, with round heads and not a single hair, but Bain has been delicate and with a lot of dark hair, like the little man in his arms.

Oh god, what would the children say when they heard of it? Though Thranduil had been very brave during the birth, it was a miracle that they had not been aware of the events, but in no time the morning would come and what then? In Bard's head the thoughts were rotating, so he had to sit down on the edge of the bed. His eyes were still resting on the child in his arms as he finally asked, "What are we going to do now?"

"Sleeping would be a nice option," Thranduil said, and as Bard raised his gaze, he realized again how exhausted the Elvenking seemed. No wonder, had he just went through a strenuous birth. While Bard had held the child, Tauriel had silently removed the soiled sheets without much fuss and exchanged for new ones before she left the room again. Actually, Thranduil would have needed a bath, too, but it was obvious that he was still too weakened. "You're right," Bard replied, placing the child on the bed next to the Elvenking. "Your body needs rest."

"You look like you should close your eyes, too," Thranduil said, by suppressing a yawn. With difficulty, he moved on the mattress aside and told the man to lie next to him.

"No need. I can sleep in my own room, "Bard replied politely.

"But I'd feel better when you sleep here. With me and our son. "The look of the Elvenking spoke of a longing as old as humanity, so that Bard finally defeated. Quickly he stripped off his clothes, then turned the light of the lantern down so that it was only a dull glow and slipped under the blanket. Thranduil lay on the side, the child between them, and looked at Bard without a word, and Bard looked back. Then, after a long moment of silence, he leaned on his forearms and bent over the sleeping infant to the elf and kissed him. Without having to pronounce it, both men knew the kiss meant more. It was not a simple kiss, it was a promise. The promise to find a way for a life together. For themselves and their son. And with that knowledge in their hearts they finally fell asleep.

 

The End


End file.
